I sink into plushness
Of soft silky lushness
Of dreamy round clouds
Of angel veiled shrouds
I fly up to meet
The Man in the street
The rich golden hue
Underneath my soft shoe
I fall down to find
The One of a kind
The Beauty within
The resplendent skin
I reach up to grasp
With deaths’ last gasp
The Hand held to me
As the Man sets me free
Categories:
plushness, christian, death, heaven, hope,
Form: Quatrain
Alas, the hour is getting late;
dark clouds are sailing 'cross the sky.
And as I fight this sleepy state,
I hear the time go ticking by.
Thick shadows climb along my wall –
alas, the hour is getting late.
A dream stands by, while eyelids fall
against my will – the strain is great.
Now as my body pours its weight
into the plushness of my bed,
alas, the hour is getting late
when I must rest my weary head.
I beg the dream to take me now
for lo, I can no longer wait.
And as the darkness sweeps my brow,
alas, the hour is getting late.
JMariah
Categories:
plushness, sleep,
Form: Quatern